Accidents Happen
by GrumpyMagrat
Summary: A loaded gun, a dark cemetery...what could possibly go wrong?


Accidents Happen

By GrumpyMagrat and Magratconvert

Disclaimer: We own no rights to any of these characters. We write for our own enjoyment, and we hope that you enjoy it too.

Author's note: This story is set roughly during either late season three or early season four.

Bobby made his way down the stairs in the dark as the pounding on is door continued. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he grumbled loudly. "No need to break down the door." He flipped on the porch light and the pounding stopped. He peeked through the curtains and saw Sam Winchester standing in front of his door. Well, standing wasn't quite it. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and he kept glancing back toward the car. "This had better be good…that idjit waking me up…" Bobby mumbled to himself as he unlocked the series of deadbolts on his door. Yanking it open, "What the hell, Sam?"

"Bobby, great, I need your help. Dean's been shot." Sam blurted out in a rush.

Bobby was instantly alert, "Shot!? Where is he?"

Sam motioned behind him. "He's in the car."

Bobby wasn't sure whether to be alarmed or concerned since Sam came to him instead of a hospital. Dean's injuries could be minor and not require a doctor's attention or they could be severe and Sam was in shock and not thinking straight. Pushing past Sam, heading towards the car, he said, "Come on. Let's take a look."

Sam followed behind him. "He won't let me help him."

Bobby wasn't sure what to make of that statement so he continued with more questions. "What happened? Weren't you on a hunt? How long ago did this happen? Where was he shot?"

By this time, they had reached the car. Bobby had to stifle a laugh when he saw Dean stretched across the back seat with a white bandage on his right butt cheek. "Is that…" Bobby began only to be cut off by Dean.

"Yeah, it is. Go ahead and laugh. Get it out of your system. Then maybe you can help me inside and remove this damn bullet from my ass."

Bobby did chuckle out loud a little as he reached in and helped Dean out of the car. Once upright, Bobby looped Dean's arm over his shoulder. Sam reached out for Dean's other arm in an effort to help anchor him, but Dean pulled it away. "I said 'don't touch me!' You've done enough."

"I said I was sorry."

"You shot me!"

"It was an accident."

"Yeah, well, just shut up. I can't deal with it right now, maybe later."

Bobby was surprised to hear that it was Sam who somehow shot Dean. He knew that it would be an interesting story, but decided to hold off with his questions until Dean's wound had been dealt with.

Dean now lay on the couch on his left side. The bullet had been removed and the wound stitched closed. Of course Dean being Dean, he refused any pharmaceutical pain killers and opted for the old fashioned swigs of whiskey. He still clutched the bottle as he stared absent-mindedly into space.

The wound was shallow. Bobby figured that the bullet must have ricocheted off of something. It was traveling fast enough to pierce the skin but not the muscle layer. It basically formed a small tunnel between the skin and muscle. Bobby found it easy to use a small pair of forceps to pull the iron round out the way it went in. He cleaned it well and put a few stitches in and it was done. Nothing that any hunter worth his salt couldn't do. He couldn't help but wonder why Dean chose to endure an hour of driving to his house instead of letting Sam handle it.

Bobby grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and handed one to Sam while pushing him into the room where Dean was. He sat down. "Okay, how about you two idjits explain to me what the hell happened."

"It's real simple. Sam shot me in the ass." Dean jumped in right away.

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's not that simple. It was an accident, and you know it."

"What I know is that I have a hole in my ass courtesy of you."

"I keep telling you. It wasn't my fault. If it wasn't for those two douche bags none of this would've happened. Besides, you don't like them any more than I do."

"Don't even get me started on those two. If I had them here, I'd…"

"That's enough," Bobby snapped. "I'm tired of listening to you two bicker like some old married couple."

The two shut up at Bobby's tone. They suddenly felt like pre-teens again in trouble for toilet-papering the neighbor's trees.

Bobby saw the contrite looks on the boys' faces, but still spoke sternly. "Now let's try this again. I know you were up in Badger investigating what I thought was just some ghost activity. Was it something else? Obviously things went wrong."

Sam and Dean shared a confused look. "Wait a minute, how'd you know we were in Badger?" Sam asked.

Bobby gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? You don't think that I know what's going on in my own backyard? I was going to head up there myself until I heard you two were on the case. I assumed you guys could handle it. Silly me."

Quiet reigned in the room until Bobby gestured a "come on" roll of his hand. "I'm waiting. Who's going to talk first?"

Dean pointed to Sam with an open hand. "I'd say 'Age before beauty' but I'd win on both accounts. So, I'll just defer to you."

"Whatever." Sam huffed but continued. "Okay, you're right. We were in Badger, and it was a pretty straight forward salt and burn. The ghost was a private church-run school teacher when she was alive. She was going after alumni that she thought had 'strayed from the path of righteousness'. I think she was trying to scare them back to the 'straight and narrow'. Unfortunately, it backfired. Most of them ended up in the bar trying to drink away the haunting. One man though was so scared that he had a heart attack and died, and another is in a vegetative state at the mental hospital. We burned the bones. So, that should be the end of Mrs. Landspear."

Bobby shook his head. "I don't get it. How'd Dean get shot?"

"Leave if to Sasquatch to drag the story out."

"Shut up. You didn't want to tell it."

"Well, if I had known that my ass would be healed before you get around to telling what you did…"

"I wish you would quit blaming me. You know it was Ed's fault. If he hadn't startled me…"

"That's just it. You're a hunter. You shouldn't have gotten startled."

"Oh, excuse me, Mr. Perfect Hunter."

Bobby stood rubbing his temples. "I've changed my mind. I don't want to know. You're giving me a headache. I'm going back to bed."

"No, wait," Sam said. "I promise…no more fighting."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean. "Dean?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, no more fighting."

Bobby sat back down in his chair. "Okay, so from what you've said, the shooting had nothing to do with the hunt. So, what happened?"

Sam scrubbed his face with his hand then blew out a breath. "Alright, while we were watching the body burn, we heard a noise in some bushes near a side fence. We split up to check it out. When I got closer, I could hear voices, and I heard one say 'hand me the gun'. So I pulled out my pistol. I mean I had no idea who they were, but I knew they had guns."

Bobby shrugged, "Sounds reasonable."

"Yeah, anyways," Sam continued. "So there I was…creeping up on the bushes…when this guy come staggering out and ends up falling flat on his face." He paused for a moment. "Uhm…have we ever told you about Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore?" At Bobby's confused look, he added, "The Ghostfacers?"

"Oh yeah," Bobby nodded. "The two nut jobs that wanted to make a tv program about hunting and ended up getting their friend killed."

"That's them." Sam leaned forward, resting he elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. "They were the ones in the bushes. Harry went Dean's way, and he chased after him. Ed was the idiot that stumbled and fell in front of me. And yes, he startled me. I'm big enough to admit that. I ended up taking a couple of steps backwards, and I caught my foot on a low to the ground gravestone. Then I stumbled. I tried to keep my feet under me, but I couldn't and ended up falling to my knees."

"Let me guess," Bobby interrupted. "During all your 'stumbling', your gun went off and hit Dean in his ass."

"I didn't mean to shoot. My hand just reflexively closed. I can't believe that Dean got hit. I mean, I was moving…he was moving…there wasn't any aiming at all. What the hell are the chances that a stray bullet would hit him? I mean with all the open area, that Dean would end up in the bullet's path." Sam rattled on quickly and nervously. He stopped when he saw the smile pulling at Bobby's lips partially hidden by his beard. "What's so funny?"

"You…you and this other idjit here," Bobby tilted his head toward the now sleeping Dean. "I can picture it. Only you two could get yourselves into this kind of predicament. You gotta admit, if you weren't involved, this would be hilarious."

Sam thought for a minute and then began to smile himself. "I guess, but you can't tell Dean. He's mad enough at me. He wouldn't even let me bandaged the wound, let alone remove the bullet."

"So, who did it? The bandage was too neat for Dean to have done it himself."

"No, he had Harry do it. He was just as mad at Ed as me, so he didn't want Ed anywhere near him.

"I would've thought they would've taken off right away."

"Ed wanted to, but I made them wait until I was sure that Dean was okay…at gunpoint."

"Do you think this will convince those two to stop hunting?"

"I doubt it. They think they know everything, but in reality, they are so clueless."

Bobby started laughing again.

"Now what?" Sam asked.

"I was just thinking about it again. You, wobbling around trying to stay on your feet. You must've looked like a drunken giraffe."

"Whatever," Sam grinned sheepishly. "I never would've won points for poise and balance, that's for sure." Glancing over at Dean again, "What'd you think, Bobby? Will he ever forgive me?"

"Oh, come on, Sam. I can't believe you even asked that. You know better than that. No one, and I mean no one, is more important to that boy than you. This will blow over, and sooner than you think, maybe even by tomorrow."

"You think so?"

"Hell yeah, after all, tomorrow he's going to be nursing a hangover from all that whiskey."

Sam rubbed his hands across his knees. "Well, I guess there's only one thing to say."

Bobby looked at Sam inquisitively but waited.

Sam smirked. "Thank God for hangovers."

Author's note: Thank you for reading. We hope that you enjoyed it. We just need to make a couple of points. #1: We have never been to Badger, SD. We just picked that city off the map, since it was semi-close to Sioux Falls. We have no idea about the city set-up like if it ever has/had a private school or what their cemeteries look like. It is nothing more than poetic license on our part. #2: With the exception of kindergarten, Convert went to a private church run school her entire school years. The majority of the teachers were very nice and even to this day are nice to Convert on the rare times they run into each other, but there are a few that feel that it is their job to look down on those that don't live up to their standards (like Convert). It is sad that they choose to use their religion as a weapon. Unfortunately, it's not just religion; people use many things to look down on others, political views, wealth status, intelligence, etc. We can only hope that through education and maturity that the human race will outgrow this nonsense. (Okay, rant over.)

Again, we hope that you enjoyed this story as much as we did writing it. Have a wonderful day.


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